Flying Free
by Black Rose of Paris
Summary: A young journalist is sent to the opera house to investigate a suicide. Her editor believes there is more to the story that the police are telling. What will she find in the deserted catacombs? Rated T to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

Twenty-three year old Alexis Mulheim sat in her apartment late Tuesday night, watching the evening news and drinking her favorite coffee- a Java Chip from Starbucks. As a reporter and journalist for _Le Canard enchaîné, _she usually didn't have much work aside from some satirical articles about politics, but a few of the other writers had been out with the flu, and she had been picking up the work to meet the weekly deadline. Suddenly her cell phone rang. She picked it up off the table and checked the caller I.D. Thomas, her editor.

"What now, Thomas?" she answered. "I just finished two pages and the cover story for this week's issue."

"Are you watching the news?" Thomas asked.

"Yes," Alexis replied, annoyed.

"Did you see that story about that guy who was found hanging in the catacombs under the old opera house?"

"Yeah, John Baker, wasn't it? The police say it was a suicide. What about it?"

"You're going to investigate it," Thomas said. "I know that you suspect it may not be a suicide, so you're going to check it out at the scene."

"And how do you know that?"

"Aren't you like a Goth chick or something?"

"No, you're just an idiot." Alexis insisted.

"Yeah, fine, whatever. Anyway, I've made arrangement for you to investigate the catacombs tomorrow at seven. Be there or you're fired," Thomas said.

"Seven in the morning?" Alexis exclaimed. "What kind of person gets up that early?"

"You, tomorrow. Investigate, get a story, write it up, have it to me by tomorrow afternoon. Good luck." Thomas hung up.

"This sucks," Alexis groaned. "A suicide under the opera house. I'm going to hear a whole lot of ghost baloney tomorrow, aren't I?" She sighed, put her empty coffee cup in the garbage, and went to bed to rest up for her early-morning assignment.


	2. Chapter 2

Alexis walked through the door of the opera house and checked her watch. Six fifty-four. Perfect. She approached the front desk and rang the small bell on the counter. A man popped up from behind the counter.

"We don't start selling tickets until eight a.m. Come back then," he said before turning back around.

"That's not why I'm here," Alexis said, adjusting her glasses. "I'm from _Le Canard enchaîné. _I'm here to investigate the suicide of John Baker."

"I'm sorry, but we don't let reporters in," the man said as he started to organize some paperwork. Alexis took fifteen Euros out of her pocket and slid it across the desk. The man glanced up at her.

"I'm also the one who writes the reviews for the magazine. I could put in a good word about the service here. Who knows how many people that will bring in?" Alexis smiled mischievously. The man behind the desk smiled back.

"Let me call someone to take you to the catacombs," he said, picking up the phone. Within minutes, a young woman had come to the front desk. "Aimee will escort you." Aimee curtsied to Alexis.

"Come with me," the young woman said. Alexis followed her. _I'm going to kill you, Thomas. After you reimburse me, that is. _Aimee led Alexis backstage and through a locked door. They descended a stone staircase, and Aimee stopped short.

"We are here, Miss," Aimee said timidly. She turned to leave, but Alexis stopped her.

"Do you know anything about John Baker, the man who committed suicide down here?"

"No, I don't. But-" Aimee looked around nervously. "I can tell you that it wasn't suicide. It was the Opera Ghost!"

"I see," Alexis said skeptically. "I'll keep that in mind, then." Aimee ascended the staircase, leaving Alexis alone in the catacombs. She took a map out of her purse and made her way to the place where the man was found hanging. When she got there, she sat down against the wall and took out the crime report Thomas had emailed to her.

"Let's see," she said out loud. "Baker, John. Age 48. Found hanging under the opera house with bruises around neck, supposedly from rope. Suicide." Alexis set the report down and looked around the catacombs before taking out a newspaper article about the man's death. "Baker, a worker at the opera house, had never given any indications of depression or suicidal tendencies. He was a heavy drinker, but alcohol is not thought to be a factor in his death. He left behind a wife and two grown children." Alexis put the papers back in her purse and stood up. "Something doesn't seem right here. It's not adding up. A man with no history of depression is suddenly found hanging underneath the opera house, behind a locked door. Even though he had a key, he had no reason to be down here. In addition, he had a family. It's not adding up. In all the suicide cases I've seen, there's always been at least one obvious factor that triggered the suicide. Here, there's nothing. It has to be a murder. Thomas was right. I hate it when he's right." Alexis groaned and started to wander around the catacombs. She stopped short when she saw the ground underneath the place where Baker was found. The normal dust and dirt on the stone had been disturbed. This wouldn't have been so shocking if Alexis had seen some footprints, but what she found were long skids, as if something had been dragged, next to a set of footprints. She followed the footprints and the drag marks backwards, where she found a mess of two different sets of footprints, both different sizes.

"A scuffle," Alexis breathed. "There was a fight, and something, or someone, was pulled to the place where Baker was found hanging. I'm guessing the murderer fought with Baker, killed him, and hung him up to make it look like a suicide. Classic. No wonder Thomas gave me this assignment. He knew I would suspect something. I _really_ hate it when he's right." Suddenly, Alexis felt something pulled tight around her neck. A rope. She turned around and came face-to-face with a man wearing a black mask that covered his face.

"Aw, man. I was right," Alexis groaned.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey, hey. Before you kill me, Mr. Murderer, at least let me have a last meal. I woke up late this morning, didn't have time for breakfast. You know how that is, right? I was thinking of picking something up at ten, but obviously, that's not gonna happen. You know, I'm in the mood for a nice chicken breast, with maybe a lemon sauce. Oh, and some nice red wine. But really, I could settle for McDonald's or something. A burger and a large diet Coke, with some fries on the side. Am I talking too much?" The man released the rope, and Alexis fell to the ground rubbing her neck.

"Why are you here?" the man asked.

"I'm from _Le Canard enchaîné_. I came to investigate the death of John Baker, but you're not going to let me do that are you? Let me guess, you're going to kill me," Alexis sighed. "By strangulation, I assume."

"Follow me," the man said, turning away from Alexis. She obeyed, and let him take her through the catacombs to the edge of a large lake. She could see a light in the distance. "Get in the boat," the man commanded, grabbing the oars from inside the small rowboat. Alexis got in and sat down.

"This is a nice lake," she said. "I've always wanted a pool, but an apartment in the middle of Paris isn't really the best place for one."

"Why are you not frightened?" the man asked as he started to row.

"Because I'm what some might call 'weird.' You see, what frightens other people and freaks them out, I tend to like that kind of stuff. For example, my favorite author is Poe. That man is a genius!"

"Poe? Interesting," the man commented. "Which story of his is your favorite?"

"Hm. I'd have to say 'The Fall of the House of Usher,' but I'm also partial to 'The Cask of Amontillado.' You?"

"'The Masque of the Red Death,'" the man said simply. "Favorite poem?"

"'The Bells,' no question. Though, his lesser known poem that he wrote to his cousin also strikes my fancy. 'Thou wouldst be loved, then let thy heart from its present pathway part not. Being everything which now thou art, be nothing which thou art not. And with the world, thy gentle ways, the grace, thy endless beauty, shall be an endless theme of praise. And love, a simple duty.' Most people know him as a horror and mystery writer, but his love poems were beautiful! I'm talking too much again, aren't I? By the way, I don't believe you've told me your name. I'm Alexis."

"My name is Erik. And I agree, Poe's love poems are quite nice. Ah, we're here." Erik pulled the front of the boat up onto the rocky shore and helped Alexis out of it. He then led her into a small house. "You may wait here," he told Alexis. He then went into another room and locked the door behind him. Alexis looked around at the room. It was comfortable and nicely furnished. Alexis lay down on the large bed and closed her eyes, hoping to rest a little to make up for her lost sleep that morning. She must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew, Erik was gently shaking her shoulder.

"Come," he said, extending his hand to her. She placed her hand in his followed him into a small dining room, where lunch was waiting for her.

"You made me lunch?" Alexis asked as Erik pulled out her chair for her. "For a murderer, you're quite the gentleman." As she began to eat, she noticed that Erik was just sitting at the other end of the table, watching her. "You're not going to have lunch?" Alexis asked. "Wait, you're not anorexic, are you?"

"I'm sorry, I don't believe I've heard that term before," Erik said politely.

"Anorexia is a disease where people don't eat because they think they're fat. It's more of a mental thing."

"Oh, no, it's nothing like that," Erik replied. "In fact, I've found it nearly impossible to gain weight."

"Ah, so you're one of those people who have a crazy fast metabolism. You're so lucky. I have to work out at least three times a week to keep this figure. Really, it's a pain, but at least I look good in skinny jeans. I'm rambling again, aren't I?" Alexis fell silent.

"Yes, a bit. You do that a lot, don't you?"

"Yeah, it gets on people's nerves most of the time, especially my editor, Thomas. He's the one who made me wake up so early today. 'Get a story,' he said. 'Have it to me by tomorrow afternoon,' he said. I seriously just spent a whole week picking up the slack from a bunch of writers who are out with the flu, while Thomas sat in his office, playing Farmville. Farmville! He never does any real work. He should be the one out here this morning, not me. On the bright side, I did get to meet you, and you're pretty interesting. And I'm rambling again. Am I annoying you?"

"Oh, no not at all. It's not often I have company. It's nice having someone to talk to besides the cat."

"You have a cat? Awesome!"

"Yes, her name is Lenore. But I swear, if she leaves one more inky paw print on my papers, she will roam here, nevermore." Alexis giggled, and she thought she heard a quiet laugh from Erik. Alexis finished her lunch, and Erik came to take her plate and glass away.

"Are you still tired?" he asked her. "If you want, you may rest more."

"Thank you," Alexis replied. "I'm used to sleeping in, and six a.m. is just unholy." Erik let her back into the other room, and she lay down on the bed. As she did, a small black cat jumped up onto the bed with her and curled up beside her.

"It seems Lenore likes you," Erik commented. "I'm going out for a while. I should be back in two hours or so." With that, Erik left. Alexis lay down, and was asleep within minutes.


	4. Chapter 4

When Alexis awoke, she found Lenore, still curled up beside her.

"Hello, Lenore," she said sleepily. "Did you have a good nap?" Lenore looked at her and blinked slowly before stretching out and jumping onto the top of a nearby bookcase. Alexis stretched, too, and checked her watch. Four-thirty in the afternoon. She groaned. Thomas was going to be mad. She got her cell phone out of her purse and checked the screen. Three missed calls, all from Thomas. She quickly called him back.

"Where have you been?" Thomas shouted. "I need that story now! Please tell me you at least have it written."

"Not quite," Alexis replied, getting out of the bed. "I'm just finishing up at the opera house. I'll be home in half an hour, and I'll have the article to you by seven at the latest."

"Did you at least find something interesting?" Thomas sighed. Alexis paused. Was she really going to turn Erik in to the police?

"Yes," she said. "You'll have your article, and it'll knock your socks off." Alexis ended the call and put her phone back in her purse. That's when she noticed Erik watching her.

"I'll take you back to the catacombs," he said.

"Thanks. And don't worry, you're secret is safe with me. I won't tell anyone what happened down here. You have my word." Alexis grabbed her purse and followed Erik out to the boat.

"Are you coming back?" Erik asked as he started to row toward the opposite shore.

"I hope I can," Alexis replied. "I would really like to look around these catacombs more."

"If you come back tomorrow, I can show you around. I know of quite a few secret passageways throughout the opera house, if you're interested," Erik offered.

"Really? That would be great!"

"Be here at noon. Just wait by the lake and I'll be there to get you." Erik helped Alexis out of the boat.

"Okay, I'll see you then," Alexis said as Erik started to row back to his house. She smiled and turned back toward the catacombs. Using her map, she made her way back to the door that led up to the opera house. As she passed the front desk to leave, the man called out to her.

"Did you get your story?" he asked.

"Yeah, and I'll say something good about the opera house in my review. Thanks for letting me look around," Alexis said as she opened the door to leave. She walked home quickly, stopping at Starbucks on the way to get a white chocolate mocha. When she got to her apartment, she sat down at the kitchen table, turned on her laptop, and checked the time. Ten minutes after five. She would have plenty of time to write her article. She opened up Microsoft Word and started typing.

_"Murder at the Opera. Many of you have heard of the death of John Baker, a backstage worker at the opera house who was found hanging in the catacombs Tuesday morning. The police determined that Baker, age 48, had committed suicide. One of our reporters, Alexis Mulheim, went to investigate the scene of the supposed suicide. There, Ms. Mulheim found shocking evidence. Under the place Baker was found hanging, the dirt on the floor had been disturbed- long skid marks led from that place to approximately fifteen feet away, where there were signs of a scuffle. The murderer must have fought with Baker, killed him by strangling him, and hung him up to make it seem like a suicide. There were no clues as to who the murderer might be, or where he went after killing Baker."_

Alexis sat back and re-read her article. Hopefully it would be enough to make Thomas leave her alone. She opened up her email, attached the document, and sent it to the office. Within five minutes, she got a call from Thomas.

"What kind of story is this?" Thomas shouted. "I wanted something interesting, not a paragraph about what half the population of Paris already suspects!"

"That's all I could find," Alexis sighed. "There's nothing else there! I wrote down everything I found. Unless you want a story about how the front desk manager of the opera house takes bribes from reporters, you're not getting anything else. By the way, you owe me fifteen Euros."

"Why do I owe you- never mind. Just come down to the office tomorrow afternoon."

"I can't. I'm busy tomorrow afternoon."

"Busy?" Thomas exclaimed. "Why would a person like you be busy?"

"I'm not you're robot. I have a life outside of _Le Canard enchaîné_, you know."

"Fine. Friday morning then. Don't forget." With that, Thomas hung up. Alexis groaned and buried her head in her hands.

"I'm going to bed early!" she said out loud as she shut down her laptop. "I deserve it!"


	5. Chapter 5

Alexis rolled over and checked her alarm clock. Just after ten. Now_ this_ was a good time to wake up. Alexis jumped out of bed, showered, and made herself breakfast. She was ready by eleven.

"I guess I could stop by the office on my way to the opera house," Alexis muttered to herself as she grabbed her purse. She walked the three blocks to the office and knocked on Thomas's door.

"So you were able to come today," Thomas said.

"Yeah, but make it quick. I've got somewhere to be." Alexis followed Thomas into the office and sat down. "Now what was so urgent that you needed me here?"

"Two of the writers will be out for another week with the flu, and another is on vacation. You need to work overtime this week again."

"Why can't you do some of the work?" Alexis asked, glaring at Thomas.

"Because," Thomas leaned in and lowered his voice. "I'm working on this huge story. It won't be ready for another month, and it's taking up all of my time."

"Okay, what's this big article about?"

"The Opera Ghost."

"Are you crazy?" Alexis asked, laughing. "There's no such thing as the Opera Ghost."

"But look at the evidence! You're right. John Baker was murdered, along with the dozens of other people who have disappeared under the opera house. And what about all the mysterious things that happen there? All the so-called 'accidents.' Mysterious shadows and figures in the dark. There's something going on there, and I'm going to get to the bottom of it."

"You know what? Let me take that story," Alexis offered. "I'm going back to the opera house anyway, and you look pretty tired. You pick up this week's articles, and I'll take the Opera Ghost story."

"Really? If you want, I guess. But why are you going back to the opera house? I thought you were finished with the John Baker story."

"Oh, I was, um, offered a private tour of the opera house," Alexis stammered. "It'll be the perfect chance to ask people about the Opera Ghost."

"Okay, you can take it," Thomas agreed. "Since you're going over there anyway, I guess it wouldn't hurt to get some work done. Get over there and get something good." Alexis stood up and left the office. Opera Ghost? Did Thomas really believe that there was a ghost in the opera house? Sure, crazy stuff happened around there, but didn't stuff like that happen everywhere? And besides, Alexis had already solved the murders. There wasn't much else to it. Of course, she couldn't tell Thomas about Erik. She would just have to make something up, and, since she wrote fiction pieces for various other magazines for the extra cash, it shouldn't be too hard. Anything to get out of another full week of work. Alexis walked the short distance to the opera house and was about to pass the front desk when the man who was working there yesterday stopped her.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I still have a bit of work to do in the catacombs," Alexis lied.

"Okay, then," the man said as he tossed her a key. "You'll need this."

"Thanks." Alexis put the key in her pocket and made her way backstage and down the staircase Aimee had taken her down yesterday. At the bottom, she unlocked the door and entered the catacombs. She still felt the same thrill she had felt when she was alone there yesterday. The fear of the unknown excited her. She went back to the place where Erik had dropped her off yesterday afternoon and sat down on a large rock to wait for him. He arrived shortly after she did.

"Are you ready?" he asked as she climbed into the boat.

"Yep, let's do this," she replied.

"Then we'll start with the torture chamber," Erik said.

"Torture chamber? That's so cool!" _Torture chamber. Death. Murder. John Baker. Story. The Opera Ghost assignment! _Alexis had completely forgotten that Thomas has told her to do some research today! "Erik, do you know anything about the Opera Ghost?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I've been told to gather any information I can find on the Opera Ghost. Thomas gave me the assignment. He says he's been working on it for months, but hasn't found anything worthwhile. He thinks the Opera Ghost exists, but I'm not so sure. I just took the assignment to get out another full week."

"You don't believe in ghosts?" Erik asked.

"Not really, no, but I love a good ghost story. The Opera Ghost legend sounds interesting. I was thinking you might know something since you live under the opera house."

"The legends say that the Opera Ghost started haunting the opera house in the late 1800's. People who claimed to have seen him say that he was always wearing dress clothes, and has a death's head. Some versions of the legend also say that he had no nose, and you could never see his eyes, except in the dark, where they glowed a bright yellow. They say that the ghost was in love with a beautiful young singer. Now, after a spectacular debut performance, the singer went missing. She returned less than a week later, though. She was pale and frightened. When asked where she had been, she would just say that she had gone to visit some relatives. Well, shortly after returning, the singer became engaged to one of the opera's patrons, a wealthy viscount. Not long after the engagement, the singer performed _Faust_, but, in the middle of the performance, the lights went out, and when they came back on, the singer was gone. She returned two days later, looking happier than she ever had before. She and the viscount were married, and the Opera Ghost all but disappeared from the opera house. He was never heard from again. That is what I've heard."

"It's a beautiful story. And from what I know of ghosts, I believe that something happened the second time the singer disappeared, something that made both she and the ghost quite happy."

"Oh? And why do you think that?"

"The singer returned visibly content, and the ghost stopped haunting the opera house. Ghosts usually stick around because they have unfinished business, and whatever happened between him and the singer resolved the issue. He was able to pass on in peace. And this is just a guess, but I'm thinking that when the ghost first died, his death was somehow connected to a woman. When he found love again and was able to let it go, his first death was resolved." They came to the shore, and Erik helped Alexis out of the boat. "It's a beautiful story."

"Yes, I suppose it is," Erik said. "Though the end of a ghost's love story can never be anything but tragic."

"I don't know. The idea of a ghost falling in love with a mortal is very romantic."

"It is?"

"Yeah. I even think it might redeem the ghost."

"How so?"

"Imagine the singer was in love with the Opera Ghost. They would get married, and the singer would eventually die of old age, right? Well, then the ghost would have nothing else to remain in this world for, and he would be able to pass on peacefully and remain with the singer in eternity. Either way, the ghost passed on, but this way seems much happier."


	6. Chapter 6

"I suppose you're right," Erik said thoughtfully as he led Alexis to a hidden panel in the wall of his drawing room. He then pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the panel through a hole that was half-hidden by a tapestry hanging on the wall. He pushed the door open and led Alexis in. "Welcome to the torture chamber."

"Wow," Alexis breathed as the gazed around the hexagonal room. The walls were covered from top to bottom with mirrors, and a large iron tree stood in one corner.

"From another room, I am able to increase the temperature, thus creating the illusion of an African forest. The victim dies of extreme thirst," Erik explained, reaching up into the iron tree and untying a noose from one of the branches. "Or they go mad and have no choice but to end the torture themselves."

"How many people have been killed in here?" To anyone but Erik, Alexis's gleeful curiosity might have been frightening.

"In this particular room, only one, back when the Opera Ghost supposedly fell in love with the singer. Well, it was almost three, but that's another story. In the original, in Persia, hundreds have fallen victim to this method of torture. It was one little sultana's favorite method of executing criminals."

"Fascinating." Alexis ran her hand over the iron tree, which was cold to her touch. She imagined what it would be like to be in here, slowly dying from heat and thirst. The thought made her shudder, yet she wasn't frightened. She was, at the very least, intrigued.

"Would you like to continue?" Erik asked as he started to climb the tree.

"Yep," Alexis replied, following him. Once they reached the top, Erik pressed a small nail into the wall, and sections of the wall slid out, forming a staircase. She and Erik ascended the stairs and, at the top of the domed room, Erik pushed open a panel and gave Alexis a boost through. He followed, closing the panel behind him.

"People won't start arriving for tonight's opera for a while," Erik said. "We should be safe." Alexis looked around and saw that they were in one of the prop storage rooms. Erik led her through the maze of discarded set pieces and props. Eventually they came to a narrow metal staircase that spiraled up into darkness.

"Creepy," Alexis commented. "I like it." She followed Erik up the staircase and saw that it had led them to the many catwalks and platforms above the stage.

"It's amazing how we can get from the cellars to the ceiling so quick, isn't it?" Erik asked, starting to walk out onto one of the catwalks.

"Yeah," Alexis said weakly, staying where she was. Erik turned back to her.

"Is something wrong?" he asked with genuine concern.

"I have bit of an issue with heights," Alexis said sheepishly. "I may not flinch at ghost stories and deserted catacombs, but when it comes to heights, I'm a chicken." Erik held out his hand to her.

"Hold on to me," he said. "You'll be safe." Alexis grasped his outstretched hand and followed him onto the catwalk. She seemed to become a bit less tense the longer she stayed with him. Erik himself was careful not to shake the catwalk as he moved. It was unusual for him, having a girl so close. Holding his hand and not being afraid of him. In fact, this was the first time he had seen her afraid of anything, and it was merely the height of the catwalk.

"This is actually pretty cool," Alexis said, stepping lightly across the wooden boards.

"Everything from the stage to the roof is out of my domain, but I have plenty of secret passages that no one has found. They make it easy to move around undetected." Suddenly, the sound of voices was heard coming from the stage. Erik looked down frantically.

"Who is it?" Alexis asked, not moving closer to the edge of the catwalk.

"The set-movers must have come early," Erik said. "We must go back underground."


	7. Chapter 7

"Lead the way." Erik took Alexis by the hand and led her down to one of the boxes that patrons rented.

"This box was reportedly haunted by the Opera Ghost," Erik said as he activated a secret panel in one of the columns. "His voice would be heard, yet when people looked in, there was no one here." He helped Alexis through the trapdoor, behind which lay another spiral staircase that led downward, and he and Alexis continued downwards. At the bottom, Erik opened yet another panel in the wall. This one led into a room that was painted completely black. A coffin lay in the middle of the room beneath a red canopy, and an organ stood against one wall.

"Where are we?" Alexis asked.

"This is my room. The drawing room is right through there," Erik replied, pointing at a closed door.

"I like the paint here," Alexis said as she started to wander around. "When I was younger, I wanted to paint my room black, but my mom wouldn't let me. I ended up settling on a light bluish-gray." Erik smiled slightly. No matter what Alexis was talking about, she always found a way to get distracted, didn't she? She turned back to him. "I have a question, if you don't mind."

"Go ahead."

"Why do you still wear that mask? It's not like I'm going to turn you into the police or anything. It wouldn't make a difference if I knew what you face looked like, would it?"

"You don't understand," Erik sighed. "There are some things that are better left unsaid, and the answer to your question is one of them. Just trust me when I say that you will never see my face. Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do," Alexis replied. Her voice suggested that she accepted this as a suitable answer. She continued wandering about the room, and she eventually approached the coffin. "I've always wanted to sleep in a coffin," she said as if the conversation about Erik's mask had never taken place. "Another idea my mom rejected. Right now I just sleep on a couch. A writer's salary does not allow for elegant furniture."

"You don't make much money?" Erik asked, more than happy to leave the previous subject behind.

"I make enough to live on. I have cable, an internet connection, a cell phone, a nice apartment, and plenty of food. I don't know what I would do if I had more money. Probably just buy more coffee, and Lord knows I don't need that much caffeine in my system. I'm content where I am. I'm a writer living in Paris, for goodness sakes! A lot of people wish they had a life like mine. For me, money isn't a big deal. That reminds me, Thomas owes me fifteen Euros. I had to bribe the front desk manager yesterday to get in, even though Thomas told me he had 'made arrangements' for me to look around. He is so lazy. If next week's _Le Canard enchaîné_ isn't out on time, or at all, I'm going to blame him. I'm probably going to end up doing all of this week's work again anyway, in addition to this crazy Opera Ghost assignment. I'm not going to sleep all week! I might need some of that extra coffee. I'm really not in the mood for work. I'll start tomorrow morning."

"Do you have any plans tonight?" Erik asked unexpectedly.

"Nope. I was going to stop by the office and drop off my Opera Ghost research, but until Thomas reimburses me those fifteen Euros, he's not getting anything."

"Would you like to come watch the opera with me tonight?"

"Sure, sounds fun."

"Meet me by the gates on the Rue-Scribe side of the opera house at eight."

"Okay. In all my years in Paris, I've never seen an opera before." Suddenly, Alexis's cell phone rang. She groaned when she saw the name on the screen. "What do you want, Thomas? Yes, I'm still at the opera house. Yes, I'm working. No, I won't have a story to you by tonight. I won't give it to you until you give me fifteen Euros! Because I had to pay the front desk manager to let me into the opera house yesterday. It's your fault because you said you had made arrangements for me to get in! You give me money, I give you a story, understand? Yes, I'll keep working." She flipped her phone shut and put it back in her pocket. "I totally lied," she said, laughing. "I'm not working! I'd better get home and write up what I have just in case Thomas gives me the money tonight."

"I'll show you an easier way out," Erik said. He led her through yet another secret door in the drawing room and through a long stone tunnel, which exited in an alleyway behind the opera house. Before leaving, Erik handed Alexis a small key. "You may come and go as you please," he said as he closed the door behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

"Cool," Alexis shrugged, putting the key in her pocket and starting her walk home. _What do you wear to an opera anyway? I'm thinking that black evening dress, with that short jacket, and those crazy-awesome heels. Yes, that'll look good. Oh, and that pearl necklace with the matching earrings! Perfect!_ Alexis stopped for coffee on her way home, like usual. When she reached her apartment, she sat down to rest a moment and finish her coffee. It was already four o' clock. She had spent longer at the opera house than she thought. It wasn't a bad thing, though. She enjoyed spending time with Erik. He was the only person she had ever met who didn't think she was weird. Of course, that might be because he was just a bit weird himself. Not that Alexis objected. No, she liked him. Wait, not in that way. Right? Maybe? She didn't know. She didn't have much experience in the relationship department. Was she just friends with Erik, or was it turning into something more? Sighing, Alexis picked up her phone and dialed a number.

"Hello?" said the voice on the other end.

"Hi, mom."

"How are you, Alexis?" her mom asked.

"Pretty good. I have a question."

"I have an answer."

"How do you tell the difference between liking someone as a friend, and liking them as more than a friend?"

"That can be tough. Tell me a little bit about this person."

"His name is Erik. I… met him through work. I went to do a story about the opera house. He works there. He's pretty cool. We're into a lot of the same stuff. Today, he showed me some secret passages, like the kind actors and stagehands use to get around quickly. He also invited me to the opera tonight. We're meeting up at eight. He also helped me with another story, about opera legends and stuff like that." Alexis tried to make Erik seem slightly normal. Her mother would be furious if Alexis was spending time with a murderer who lived beneath the opera house and always wore a mask.

"What does he look like?"

"Um… he's pretty tall, and he has black hair. He dresses very formally- like Victorian England-style stuff."

"Is he handsome?"

"I thought you told me that looks don't matter, and it's what's on the inside that counts," Alexis said, avoiding the question. How could she know if Erik was handsome if she had never seen his face?

"You're right, you're right," her mom replied, laughing. "Is he nice?"

"He is." Alexis was able to answer truthfully now. "He got me lunch on the first day I met him, and he gave me that private tour today. He also gave me a key to one of the back doors of the opera and said I could stop by any time. He's a real gentleman."

"That's sweet. And how do you feel about him?"

"That's what I'm confused about. I mean, when I first met him, he was pretty quiet and stuff, but we started talking, and he just seemed really cool. Then he got all gentleman-like with the lunch and everything, and invited me back for a private tour. Then today, when we were up above the stage, and my… problem with heights was bothering me, he told me to hold on to him, so I did. He was really careful and gentle, and made sure I was okay. Then later he invited me to go to tonight's opera with him and gave me the key to the back door. He also puts up with my constant rambling. I got home, and started thinking about him, and I'm just so confused. I don't know if I like him as a friend, or if it's more than that. You know how inexperienced I am in romantic matters."

"That does sound confusing. Here's what you should do- just go to the opera with him tonight and see how you feel after that. If you're still confused, wait a bit longer. If you're not, then you have your answer."

"Thanks," Alexis said.

"No problem. Love you. Bye."

"Love you." Alexis tossed her phone to the other end of the couch. She still wasn't any more certain about her feelings for Erik. She lay down on the couch and put her hand over her eyes. She hated confusion. Part of the reason she had become a writer and, more importantly, a writer for a magazine, was so that she didn't have to deal with confusion. Sure, she might get momentarily stuck on how to word a sentence, but ninety-nine percent of her job was reporting the facts. Things that were undeniably true.

"Work," Alexis muttered. "Work will get my mind off of this dilemma." She quickly sat up and moved to the kitchen table. She opened her laptop, turned it on, and wrote down everything Erik had told her about the Opera Ghost. In addition, she did some quick internet searches to try to find more on the legend. The only thing she could find that Erik hadn't already mentioned was the young singer's name- Christine Daaé. After a search for the singer, Alexis discovered that Christine had married a young viscount named Raoul de Chagny. Another interesting point was that the events in Erik's story corresponded exactly to the opera managers' record book.

"I guess there's a bit of truth behind every legend," Alexis muttered. But who was the ghost? Christine couldn't have been taken away by nothing. Someone, posing as a ghost, had fallen in love with the singer. And the second time Christine disappeared, she and the man posing as a ghost worked out an agreement, and Christine was free to marry Raoul. It was the only explanation. But who was the mysterious man? In her searching, Alexis had never come across any clue as to who he was. The only references to him were "Opera Ghost," "the phantom," and, in one instance, "the trap-door lover." That one might be it! Alexis quickly searched the term "trap-door lover," but her search yielded nothing. She sat back, defeated. There was only one thing left to do. When the all-powerful internet failed, it was time to hit the library.

Alexis packed up her laptop, grabbed her purse, and headed out the door. It was only two blocks to the library, and Alexis made it in record time. She was now curious as to who was behind the legend of the Opera Ghost. Her first stop was the section where the library kept old newspaper articles. The date of Christine's first disappearance was recorded in the managers' book as November 24, 1870. Her return was recorded as November 30, and the next disappearance was December 15th, with that return on the 17th. Christine's wedding to the viscount was on the 20th. Alexis pulled out all the newspapers between November 24th and December 20th and started looking through the articles. Most of the November 25th paper was about Christine's debut performance, and her disappearance later that night. The frequency and intensity of this matter seemed to die down until the 30th, when the rumors started all over at her return. Some articles claimed she had been kidnapped, others say she was visiting friends, and some said she was in ill-health and needed to recover. The December 2nd paper announced on its front page the engagement between Christine and the viscount. The paper on the 15th anticipated Christine's performance of _Faust_, and the 16th was abuzz with news of her mid-performance vanishing act. The 17th praised her return, and the 20th congratulated her and the viscount.

"Nothing I don't already know!" Alexis whispered, frustrated, as she started to re-read the papers, making sure to comb every page. In her second search, she discovered something new- a small, one-paragraph article about the opera house's chandelier. More specifically, how the chandelier _fell in the middle of a performance! _The article claimed the ropes holding it up had been inspected just two days before and found to be in excellent condition. A trick of the Opera Ghost's, no doubt. But that would not help her. None of the articles had mentioned the Opera Ghost, or even any ghost, spirit, specter, or other supernatural being that might reside in the opera house. Defeated, Alexis put the papers back in their places in the archive and checked her watch. Five thirty. Still plenty of time before she had to start getting ready for the opera. On a whim, she grabbed the next three weeks' worth of papers from the archive and sat down at her table. She read them, one by one, looking for any other mentions of the Opera Ghost, Christine Daaé, or Viscount Raoul de Chagny. Finally, she reached the last paper, and still had found nothing. Suddenly, one of the ads caught her eye. In a small box, on the edge of the page, was a simple statement: "Erik is dead." Nothing more, nothing less. Alexis chuckled. Certainly nothing to do with the Opera Ghost legend. It had only caught her eye because she was thinking about Erik and the opera tonight. Nonetheless, Alexis photocopied the page and put the newspapers back in the archive. Folding up the copied page and putting it in her purse, Alexis headed back to her apartment. It was already six thirty. Looking through the newspapers had taken longer than she expected. She picked up a sandwich from Subway on the way home. She hadn't eaten anything since breakfast that morning, and the audible growling of her stomach was starting to get embarrassing. Once home, Alexis quickly ate the sandwich, showered, and changed into her dress.

"Well, I certainly haven't worn this in a while," she commented while looking at herself in the mirror. The last time she could remember wearing anything close to a dress was her college graduation two years ago. It certainly felt different from her usual jeans and t-shirts. She then put on some makeup- another thing she didn't do often- and put on her pearl necklace and earrings. She glanced at the clock that hung in the living room. Seven thirty. Perfect timing so far. There was one last thing she needed. Alexis went to her closet and pushed the row of clothes to the side. There, sitting on the floor, was a pair of black, four-inch, strappy, leather high heels. Alexis put them on and took a few steps. They weren't nearly as hard to walk in as she remembered. Smiling at her little triumph, Alexis grabbed her purse and started toward the opera house.


	9. Chapter 9

"I still have a few minutes," Alexis muttered to herself. "I should go get the money from Thomas before he forgets." She made a quick detour to the office before continuing toward the opera house.

"I'm here to get my money," she said bluntly.

"Okay, okay, just give it a rest already. Here," Thomas said, handing her the money. "Why are you all dressed up?"

"I'm going to the opera tonight," Alexis boasted.

"Get more info for the story," Thomas shouted as Alexis closed the door behind her. Ignoring him, Alexis continued to the opera house. She reached the Rue-Scribe side five minutes before eight, and, by the time she had located the gate, Erik was waiting for her.

"Am I overdressed?" she asked nervously when she noticed Erik was staring at her.

"N- No," Erik stammered. He gently took Alexis's hand and kissed it- like a true gentleman should. "You look beautiful." Erik himself was dressed very nicely. He was also wearing a different mask- this one was white and shaped so that Alexis could see his mouth. Alexis tried to hide her blush as Erik helped her into the waiting boat and started rowing towards his house. That's when Alexis remembered the page she had copied from the newspaper that afternoon. She pulled it out of her purse and handed it to Erik.

"Apparently, you're dead," she said, smiling. Erik laughed nervously.

"Where did you find this?" he asked.

"In a newspaper from January of 1871. I was doing a little more research on the Opera Ghost, and got caught up reading old newspapers."

"Did you find anything new for your story?" Erik asked, handing the paper back to Alexis.

"I did. The singer's name, Christine Daaé, and her lover, Viscount Raoul de Chagny. I also found some specific dates and an article about the opera's chandelier falling. I have a theory, though. The Opera Ghost wasn't a ghost at all, but a man pretending to be a ghost. Christine wasn't kidnapped by nothing. I didn't find any clues about the ghost's true identity, though."

"You're becoming quite interested in the story of the Opera Ghost," Erik observed.

"I guess I am," Alexis said. "Like I said before, I like the idea of a ghost and a mortal falling in love, and, even though the Opera Ghost was certainly mortal, it's very intriguing. I still don't know how the part about the ghost having a death's-head came about. Do you know?"

"I've heard stories of a scene-shifter who claimed to have seen the Opera Ghost. He would tell the little ballet-girls that he had a death's-head. He was found hanging the day of the singer's debut performance."

"The Opera Ghost's doing?" Alexis suggested.

"Possibly," Erik said tensely. "How much of this are you going to give to Thomas?"

"That idiot didn't do a single thing for this project. He'll get when it comes out in the next issue. There's no way he's taking credit for my work." Erik seemed to relax a little.

"I don't trust him with this information. In fact, I'm not sure I trust anyone with this information."

"Then I won't print it," Alexis said simply. "If you don't want anyone to know, then it'll remain completely confidential. But why are you so concerned about it?"

"I cannot tell you. All I can say is that no one must know what is not already known. If you need information, you may ask around the opera house and use what you found in the newspapers."

"Deal. I'm not like most writers. I have a conscience. If you don't want it repeated, it won't be repeated, plain and simple."

"Thank you," Erik said as he helped Alexis out of the boat on the opposite shore. He then took her through one off the passageways they had used earlier that day and emerged in Box 5. The two took their seats just as the opera started. Alexis enjoyed the show, but she couldn't help glancing at Erik every few minutes. By the end of the opera, her confusion was gone. She had made her choice. She followed him back through the passageway, and as they made their way back to Erik's house, he engaged her in trivial conversation about the opera. Did she like it? What was her favorite part? Questions like that. Erik then led her through the passageway that exited into the alleyway. He lingered at the doorway for a moment.

"It's late," he said, glancing at the sky. "I'll walk you home. A lady should never walk alone at night."

"Thanks," Alexis replied shyly as Erik closed the door and drew his coat up around his face. They walked in silence for a few moments. Alexis subtly reached over and lightly touched Erik's hand. He took the hint, and grasped her hand in his. They walked together, each one blissful, but afraid to show it to the other. Eventually, they reached Alexis's apartment.

"Thanks for walking me home," Alexis said.

"It was my pleasure," Erik replied. Alexis took out her keys and unlocked her front door.

"Good night," she said and, before retreating into her house, she quickly and lightly kissed Erik. He froze up at the unexpected gesture. By the time his ability to think returned to him, Alexis was already gone. Erik walked back to the opera house in a state of half-awareness. She had kissed him. _She had kissed_ _him._ Erik broke into a run halfway between Alexis's apartment and the opera house. He needed to be alone. He fumbled with the key to the door in the alleyway, and when his shaking hands finally guided it into the keyhole, he threw open the door and ran down the passageway and straight into his room. There, he collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily, and forcefully threw his mask across the room. He stared blankly at the floor, his mind and heart racing in unison.

"How?…" he muttered. "Why?… This is impossible…" He stood up and punched the wall. "Why me? Why her?" He sank to the floor and buried his head in his hands.


	10. Chapter 10

Alexis awoke close to noon the next day, but didn't bother getting out of bed until after one o' clock. Friday was her day off and, once she was up, she thought about going to visit Erik again. She quickly showered, dressed, and had a small lunch before heading toward the opera house. She entered through the door in the alleyway using the key Erik had given her and made her way down the stone passageway. When she entered the drawing room, Lenore gave a loud cry and came to greet her. The small cat purred and rubbed up against Alexis's legs. Erik must have heard, for the music that had been coming from his room stopped. Alexis broke free of Lenore's affections and went into Erik's room. He was sitting at his organ, writing in a music book filled with red notes. When Alexis came in, he turned around.

"Hey," Alexis said. "I'm off today, so I thought I'd stop by."

"Why did you kiss me?" Erik asked immediately, standing up to face Alexis.

"Because I really like you," Alexis said, blushing. Erik sighed and turned around.

"You don't understand," he said faintly. "I- No woman, however trusting, can remain with me for long."

"Why not?" Alexis asked, confused. Erik turned back toward her.

"One such as me can never be loved," Erik said. He started walking toward Alexis, and she backed up to keep from being stepped on, eventually stopping when her back hit the wall. "You would be better off if you just forgot about me."

"What is this about, Erik? What's wrong?"

"You still don't know? You still haven't figured it out?"

"Figured what out? Erik, I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"As smart as you are, I thought you would have known by now!" Frustrated, Erik took off his mask and threw it across the room.

"Known what? Erik, you're confusing me!" Alexis shouted, unfazed. "Just tell me what I'm supposed to know! I really have no idea-" Alexis fell silent and stared blankly out in front of her. Slowly, a smile spread across her face. "I get it," she said calmly. "You're the Opera Ghost. Everything you told me was just an account of what happened, and you tried to make that as ambiguous as possible. And you didn't want me to print it because I'd basically be telling everyone you're life story. And then you freaked out when I showed you the old newspaper page because that was the announcement of your death. And now you're a real ghost. I get it now." She continued to stare blankly in front of her, still smiling at the fact that she understood now. Erik tried to get her attention, but she seemed frozen in place. After a few seconds, she seemed to snap out of it. "You're right, I have not been at the top of my game recently. I should have seen that coming from a mile away."

"You're not frightened?" Erik asked, as confused as Alexis had been just a moment before. Wasn't she at least surprised by his face? The same face that Christine turned away from. The same face that earned his mother's hatred and contempt.

"The only thing that scares me is heights," Alexis shrugged. "And you're not even too tall. In fact, you're the perfect height!"

"The perfect height for what?" Alexis's confusion seemed to have been completely transferred to Erik.

"For this," Alexis said slyly as she wrapped her arms around Erik's neck and laid her head on his chest. Surprised, Erik was unable to react for a few moments. When he once again regained control of himself, he gently wrapped his arms around Alexis's waist and rested his head on hers. "I'm really glad you're one of those corporeal ghosts," Alexis said after a while. "This would be really hard to do if I passed through you every time I tried to touch you." Erik allowed a small smile to creep across his face. He suspected she must have some form of ADD, but he didn't say so out loud.


	11. Chapter 11

"No," Erik said suddenly, pushing Alexis away and once again becoming solemn. "Contrary to what you believe, a ghost and a mortal can never be in love. Perhaps that's why Christine and I could never be together. I was nothing more than a corpse. I was, as far as the world was concerned, already dead."

"Is that why you're still here?" Alexis asked softly, putting her hand on Erik's shoulder. "Because you haven't let go of Christine?"

"Perhaps," Erik sighed.

"You need to let go."

"But if I let go, I'll pass on. Wouldn't you rather have me here with you?"

"If you really love someone, you have to learn to let them go," Alexis said. "You've been here too long. It's time to move on."

"But how?" Erik asked desperately. "I've been trying for nearly a century and a half, and still I remain here in this world." Alexis thought for a few moments.

"I have an idea," she said. "Get ready. We're going for a little outing." Erik quickly grabbed his coat and his mask and followed Alexis back to her apartment. "Wait here," she said as she went inside. She came back out a few moments later holding some sort of I.D. card, and led Erik to a small building behind the apartment complex. After scanning the card, she opened the door to reveal a large garage, and walked quickly to a small red sports car.

"This is your car?" Erik asked.

"Yep," Alexis replied, starting the engine. "Usually I don't need to drive- everything is within walking distance. I keep a car around for moments like this."

"In case you need to run errands with a ghost?" Erik joked.

"Not exactly what I had in mind when I bought the car, but close enough." She started the car and pulled out of the garage. She drove through Paris's busy streets and out into the countryside. For the first time since Erik met her, she seemed to be focused on only one thing. She finally stopped outside a cemetery on the outskirts of town.

"What are we doing here?" Erik asked as he followed Alexis through the seemingly endless maze of gravestones.

"You need to see this," Alexis said, stopping in front of two elaborate headstones. Erik read the inscriptions. "Vicomtess Christine de Chagny" and "Vicomte Raoul de Chagny."

"Christine," Erik whispered, staring at the gravestone that bore her name.

"She's gone, Erik," Alexis said quietly. "They all are. You need to join them."

"You're right," Erik replied, lowering his head and closing his eyes. "Let's go back to the opera house." Alexis and Erik returned to the car and drove back to the opera house. Once there, Erik led the way to a small outcropping on the bank of the underground lake. Etched into the wall was one word- "Erik."

"Your grave," Alexis breathed, kneeling down in the damp dirt.

"Christine followed orders well," Erik said distractedly. "Once she saw my death announcement in the newspaper, she came back and buried my body like I requested." Erik knelt down next to Alexis.

"Are you ready to let go?" Alexis asked.

"Yes, I'm ready," Erik said, taking a deep breath. "And when you get home, write the story. Write as much or as little as you want. And take care of Lenore for me."

"Wait, before you go," Alexis said. Erik turned to look at her, and Alexis took off his mask and kissed him. When she pulled way, she was crying. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," Erik said, running his fingers through her hair. He then turned back toward his grave, closed his eyes, and took another deep breath. He started to become transparent, as if he were fading into the air around him.

"Goodbye," Alexis said, reaching out and taking his hand. He turned and tried to reply, but no sound came out of his mouth, though she thought she saw him say "I love you" before he completely disappeared. Alexis stayed there next to his grave for a few minutes before returning to Erik's apartment.

"Lenore," she called. The black cat came to her, looked up at her with its large gold eyes, and meowed, almost as if asking, "Where is my master?"

"You're going to come home with me, Lenore," Alexis said, giving the cat a scratch behind the ear. "Erik went home. He asked me to take care of you." Alexis wandered over to the bookcase and pulled out a book that stood out to her- a thin novel bound in red leather. The cover read "The Masque of the Red Death and other stories by Edgar Allen Poe." She absentmindedly flipped through the book, and something fell out from between the pages. Alexis bent down and picked it up. It was a photograph of a little baby. A baby with no nose and black holes for eyes. Alexis smiled and turned the picture over. On the back was a short note- "To show your wife, Erik. From, Uncle Francois." Alexis put the picture in her purse and put the book back on the bookshelf. Suddenly her cell phone rang.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Hi, sweetie." It was her mom.

"Hey, mom. What's up?"

"How did it go with Erik?"

"I- It went well," Alexis said uncertainly. How was she going to explain this? "He moved today, though, and we decided it would be better not to try to keep up a long-distance relationship. We parted on good terms, though."

"Aw, that's too bad, sweetie."

"It's okay, though. He's going to be happier now."

"Okay. Have a nice day! Love you."

"Love you. Bye." Alexis put her cell phone away and picked up Lenore. The cat gave a small cry of protest, but soon settled into Alexis's arms. Alexis took one last look around the room, making a mental note to come back later and have a good look around, and exited through the passage that led to the alleyway. She made her way back to her apartment only half-aware of her surroundings- though when she walked past Starbucks, she stopped to pick up a Java Chip. Once home, she set Lenore down to let her explore and opened up her laptop.

"Thomas will kill me if I don't have a story," she said out loud before starting her work.

_"The legend of the Opera Ghost has been retold many times over the centuries. The most common version of the legend says that the ghost was in love with a beautiful young singer named Christine Daaé. On the night of her debut performance, she disappeared, only to return nearly a week later. She then became engaged to one of the wealthy patrons of the opera, Vicomte Raoul de Chagny. However, during a performance of _Faust_, Christine mysteriously disappeared in the middle of the show. She returned two days later and promptly married the Vicomte. Upon inspection of the opera managers' book, starting on November 24__th__, 1871, one will find that the dates in the book match up perfectly to the legend. One must dig deeper, though, if they are to discover the true story behind the Opera Ghost. He was the one who took the singer away and, on the second visit, he gave her permission to marry the Vicomte. The poor, smitten ghost put her feelings before his, but because of this, he could not rest. He continued to haunt the opera house for nearly a hundred and fifty years before suddenly ceasing all activity. Could he have found true contentment, and was therefore able to pass on from this world into eternity? One can only imagine what caused the ghost to be able to peacefully let go of his past. Perhaps he learned that to truly love someone, you must learn to let them go."_

Alexis emailed the story to Thomas and closed down her laptop.

"I love you, Erik," she said quietly, a single tear falling down her cheek. She then went to her bed, where Lenore had already curled up, and went to sleep, leaving her coffee to grow cold on the kitchen table.

* * *

><p>AN: Hope you liked my little story! If you want to see the baby picture of Erik, it can be found here: h t t p: / / iron-gibbet (dot) deviantart (dot) com/ art/ Cruel-Uncle-Francois-3- 77491310 (Delete the spaces and replace (dot) with .) How could anyone not love that?


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